Everyone Breaks Eventually
by brainysmrf
Summary: I think we can all agree that Booth is headed for a much needed emotional breakdown. This is how I think things should play out.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you understand why you're here?" Sweets asked Booth, breaking the nearly 10 minutes of silence that had lapsed between them since Booth had arrived at the doctor's office.

"Do you understand that I don't want to be here?" Booth asked flatly.

"I know you think it's lame but it is mandatory. I didn't make the decision, I'm just following orders. You understand that, right?" Sweets knew that above all else, the agent recognized the importance of following orders.

"I know that a psych evaluation is protocol after traumatic cases. So, yes I understand that I'm here because I was kidnapped. But Sweets, I can tell you that I'm fine – never been better!"

"Not just because you were kidnapped. A few weeks prior to that you suffered a concussion during a hockey game that caused you to hallucinate – that's not something the FBI can overlook."

"My hallucination helped solve the case. What's the harm in that?"

"It's mega-dangerous to have someone in the field who may or may not have complete control of their faculties. In addition to the incident on the ice, there are a lot of questions about your account of being taken by the Gravedigger."

Booth leaned forward, "Who has questions? I was the only one there, how can anyone question me?"

Sweets smiled and shook his head in disbelief, "Seriously? Have you read your report? It comes across like you have mutant powers."

"Sweets, this isn't one of you sci-fi fantasies – this is my life. Get to the point."

"Fine…During the time that you were on that ship you accomplished a great deal. It's hard for anyone to imagine that things happened as you recalled them – even Dr. Brennan has said openly, to both of us, that it would have been difficult for one person to do it all."

Sighing, he sank back into the couch, "I don't know what to tell you…I was working on adrenaline and I-I just did what had to be done."

Sweets nodded, "That's a familiar action for you, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Doing what has to be done, regardless of any negative ramifications for you."

"Again, I have to ask; what's the harm in that?"

"Well, over time it can become detrimental to your own well-being. This over-responsibility that you feel often forces you to ignore your own needs and wants."

"So, because I do what's right, I'm wrong?" Booth raised his eyebrows.

"We'll get to that in a minute." Sweets looked down at the folder in his hand, "First, can I ask why you joined the Army?"

Exhaling deeply, Booth responded, "At the time, it was the quickest and easiest way to…If I hadn't done that I probably would've ended up working construction with my uncle for the rest of my life."

"The military offered you a way out of the world you grew up in?"

Booth nodded, "Sure."

"The military also offered you a controlled and predictable way of life, correct?"

"What are you getting at?"

"As the child of an alcoholic, you never knew what a new day would bring. I believe that subconsciously you sought out a career that generated the stability you craved in your youth." Sweets leaned back in his seat, bracing himself for Booth's response.

"This is…I told you that we were not to discuss my father – ever." Booth leaned forward to stare him down.

Fighting the urge to wince, Sweets nodded, "You're right, you totally did. But that was before I was told to find that chink in your armor, your albatross…What we're doing right now is completely separate from everything else, this information will never be used during your sessions with me and Dr. Brennan or at any other time…You are at a point where the issues with your childhood need to be addressed."

"Sweets, I've never believed in people blaming their parents for their shortcomings. After a certain age _you_ decide who you're going to be."

"On some level, I agree with you. However, it would be irresponsible for me to neglect your primary years. You have struggled to become your own person and that is admirable but the obstacles you have encountered during your evolution were not created by you."

Booth crossed his arms in front of him, readying himself to go on the defensive, "If I have to do this, I would appreciate it if you cut down on the shrink-speak, ok?"

Sweets relaxed and nodded, "I can do that. What do you think about my thoughts on the rationale behind your decision?"

"I don't give a lot of thought to what you think – sorry."

"Are my theories bogus?"

Booth sighed, "Sweets, I was 18 years old when I enlisted. How am I supposed to remember what I was thinking back then?

"Most people remember their feelings about the major life decisions they've made, regardless of how much time has passed. I know I do."

"You're still a kid, how many major life decisions have you had to make? Can you even vote yet?" Booth asked, trying to deflect the focus from himself.

"Agent Booth, as I know I've told you several times, I'll be 24 years old soon and with all due respect you have no idea…You know what? We're not here to talk about me…Again, do you think that I was right about your reasons for joining the military?"

Booth sighed, "I don't know, maybe. I come from a military family and like I said before it was the best choice for me at the time. I can't say that I did it because I wanted structure, I don't know."

Sweets nodded, "Ok, fair enough. Why do you think you excelled as a Ranger?"

"Because I liked killing people – is that what you want to hear?"

The agent's statement intrigued Sweets, "I know that's not the reason. But I wonder if you do." He stood to get his coffee off of his desk.

Booth glared at the doctor and waited for the rage he felt boiling inside to simmer down.

"Isn't there a part of you that fears you adapted to that way of life so quickly because you enjoyed it so much? Didn't you ever consider the fact that the United States Army was only able to mold you into a killing machine because somewhere deep inside your own psyche you were defective?" Sweets knew that he was wading into treacherous waters but he continued, as he paced the floor, "Come on, Booth. Think about it. How morally weak do you think a person has to be to become a top sniper? What kind of monster kills for a paycheck?"

"This kind of monster." Booth growled as he leapt to his feet and trapped Sweets up against the wall, causing his coffee mug to shatter on the floor. The doctor's taunting did nothing to cool down Booth's anger, "You've practically been begging me to hurt you since the day we met."

Sweets swallowed hard, "But you won't."

Booth leaned in, "How do you know?"

"Because it's not who _you are_." Sweets said slowly and purposefully, causing Booth to step away from him. "You've never hurt anyone just because you could. The things you've done, were done out of a sense of duty and the need to protect the people around you." He explained to Booth's back.

Booth exhaled deeply as he slumped onto the couch.

"And even though you told me that you've killed but never murdered, I think there are times when you question if there is a difference."

"A life is a life." Booth said quietly.

Sweets moved slowly back to his chair, stepping over his shattered mug, "The sanctity of life is not what this is about although I do believe that you hold it in very high regard, you wouldn't do the work you do now if you didn't. This is about a deep-seated fear that you have."

Booth rubbed his hand over his face, "I'm not afraid of much so why don't you tell me what _you_ think it is that's I'm afraid of."

"Yourself."

"That's a crock…"

"I don't think so. I think you worry that despite your best efforts you will end up like your father."

"I know that I'm not like him." The fact that this was a very new revelation for Booth was something he wouldn't admit to Sweets.

"But, can you admit that your father's drinking and the subsequent abuse that followed has affected you throughout your life?"

Booth paused to think. This was it, the moment he had spent 18 years avoiding. "It's not like I dwell on it…But…yeah."

Sweets celebrated a silent victory, a breakthrough in the first session, "I think that's a good place to stop for the day."

"For the day? How many more times do I have to do this?" Booth whined.

"As many as it takes. I'll see you tomorrow, same time."

Booth stood, "So, how is this going to work? I come here and talk to you until you're satisfied that I'm not 'mega-dangerous' then you report back?"

"Yes, but they don't need to know specifics. Unless I feel that you're a danger to yourself or others, nothing that is said here will be disclosed."

As he reached for the door, he turned to look at the young doctor, "I'll tell Bones about this whole thing when I'm ready, ok?"

"Whatever works for you."


	2. Chapter 2

The following day, Booth decided that he would try to take control of his session with Sweets, "So, what do you want to know about today?"

"What do you want to talk about today?"

"With you? Nothing."

Sweets scanned his notes and then looked up, "How was your night?"

"What does that have to do with why I'm here?"

"You had a pretty stressful day yesterday and I'm curious to know how you handled that."

"Fine…I handled it fine."

Sweets nodded, "It's important to you that you are perceived as fine, isn't it?"

"Sweets, I really am ok. Our little session yesterday wasn't enough to unhinge me."

"I don't doubt it, I'm sure that it takes quite a lot to 'unhinge' you. What exactly could do that?"

Booth shrugged, "Not much…" He thought for moment, "Honestly, I can count on one hand the number of times it's happened in the past few years."

"Because of the dominant need you feel to be in control. It's the driving force behind many or most of your actions, isn't it?"

"I am _not_ a control freak." Booth pointed at Sweets to make his point.

"Not in the widely recognized sense of the term. You only need to control yourself." Sweets crossed his arms, as if he was hugging himself to prove his point.

"I couldn't do my job if I wasn't able to control myself."

"Because you identify with the victims…you identify with the weak. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I sympathize with the victims of violent crimes, I think that only makes me human." Booth leaned back in the couch and stared at his hands.

"Agent Booth, you don't relate to them on a human level, you relate to them on a personal level…I have always been lead to believe that you went into law enforcement to atone for the lives you took in the military but I wonder if there isn't a small part of you that sees every new case as the chance to fix your broken childhood."

Booth shook his head, "I joined the bureau because I wanted to do some good in the world not because I have 'daddy issues'." He raised both hands to make air quotes.

"But you do have them, don't you?" Sweets leaned forward. "And at every turn in your life they're there."

"I'm my own man." Booth stated, barely above a whisper.

Sweets decided that it was time to take a step back, "When did you start gambling?"

Booth sighed, "I started playing poker in the Army, we mainly did it to pass the time…It wasn't a problem until later…"

"I'm sure that you're aware that gambling addiction is one of many impulse control disorders."

"I am aware."

"Those who are inflicted with these disorders often are trying to prevent one kind of pain or turmoil that is out of their control by inflicting a different problem on themselves."

"Sabotage." The word stung his lips, with the memory of his partner never denying that he was a 'loser'.

"In some cases…In other cases it's simply a product of the individual being unable to deny themselves their needs and wants any longer."

"I was always chasing a loss…" Booth trailed off.

"What did you lose?"

"Money." He said as if Sweets should've already known the answer.

"Come on, Agent Booth you've been around enough to know that most things have more than one meaning. That money represented something – what?"

"I-I don't know." He responded, obviously frustrated.

"Think back to that first big payout, how did you feel?"

"I had just won a ton of dough, I felt good. Winning money is good, Sweets."

"But you won and you felt like a…" Sweets trailed off, urging Booth to finish his sentence."

"Winner." Booth muttered, letting the realization wash over him.

Sweets sighed, "Excellent…There may have been times in your life that you had succeeded before but I doubt that you were ever really praised for it but winning that money was a tangible representation of…"

"Me doing something right."

"Yeah…but once it became a problem and you were forced to stop, what did you turn to?"

"I went to my meetings and back to church but…"

"What replaced the gambling? What in your life proves to you _now _that you can do something right?"

Booth rubbed his hands over his eyes, unwilling to accept the fact that he was actually making progress with Sweets of all people. After giving in to Sweets' process, he responded, "I'm a good agent."

Sweets smiled slightly, "Yes, you most definitely are." He watched the energy drain out of Booth and decided that having this man admit that it took a nearly-crippling compulsion to bolster his belief in himself was enough for the day. "We're out of time, are you available tomorrow?"

"I have to be, don't I?"

"I'm trying to be accommodating, Agent Booth."

"Same time tomorrow, I'll be here." Booth stood to leave, "I-I'm sorry about yesterday, I shouldn't have lashed out like that."

Sweets closed his notebook, "Don't worry about it…We're cool, it's a byproduct of my chosen profession…It's all good."


	3. Chapter 3

"Ok Sweets, this is our sixth session in the past two weeks, am I 'mega-dangerous'?" Booth asked as he entered the doctor's office.

"Do you think you're dangerous?"

"Uh…No. So, we're done, right?" He clapped his hands together.

"Not quite, I have a few more questions." Sweets opened his notebook and looked over his notes from their previous sessions. They had covered the agent's childhood, his time in the military, his gambling issues and more importantly it seemed that Booth was starting to see that no one in his life viewed him as harshly as he viewed himself. Now Sweets wanted to test the murky waters of Booth's interpersonal relationships, hopefully without undoing all the progress they had made thus far.

Slumping back into the couch, Booth sighed, "What now?"

"Well, as you mentioned, today is the sixth time we've met – have you discussed this with anyone?"

"Uh…Cullen asked me yesterday how things were going…"

"But you haven't talked to anyone about it on a more personal level?"

Booth shook his head, "It hasn't come up."

Sweets nodded and scribbled a few words in the file, "Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?" Booth asked with obvious annoyance in his voice.

"You know why, Agent Booth."

"It's not like I'm hiding it, it just hasn't come up."

"Ok…Are you dating anyone, right now?"

Booth rolled his eyes, "No."

"Do you consider yourself unsuccessful when it comes to relationships?"

"I am single – what do you think?"

Sweets grinned, "It doesn't matter what I think, I want to know what you think about it…Is the fact that your single because you haven't met the right person or because you are unable to make a lasting connection with another person?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't have a problem with commitment so it must be the other thing."

Leaning forward, Sweets explained, "When a person is looking for a mate, they look for someone who can fulfill their needs and their wants. I could conclude that, for the most part, you have sought out women who only meet your wants."

"I am _not_ shallow."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did."

"Dude, I didn't."

Booth threw his hands up, exasperated, "Sweets! What are you trying to say? Explain yourself – please?"

"It is my belief that either you don't know what it is that you need or…" Sweets studied Booth's face, looking for any indication of verbal triggers. The young doctor was carefully prying into the agent's psyche and was hoping to not anger him in the process, "Or that you're apprehensive to allow someone to give you what it is that you need because you fear that when that happens you will forever be in debt to that person."

Booth scoffed, "What? That's ridiculous. You meet someone, you fall in love and you share a life. It's give and take – there aren't balance sheets keeping track of who owes what."

"In an ideal relationship that's how it should work. But in reality, that's hard to find."

"Yeah…" Booth exhaled deeply.

"Even harder to find when you're unable to share your feelings."

"What?"

"Often, children of alcoholics often grow up believing that any feelings they share will be censured or rejected so they learn to not share to protect themselves from that pain."

"I'm a guy, I'm not going to sit around and 'share my feelings', Sweets. I was an Army Ranger – touchy feely stuff not part of the training."

"That's understood but it can still be a hindrance to a relationship. How are things with the mother of your son?"

"Rebecca? Fine, we're civil and can be in the same room together without arguing which is better than it's been in a long time."

"How do you feel about that?" Sweets inwardly winced, afraid that Booth wasn't going to be happy about Parker being mentioned.

Booth shrugged, "It's good – for Parker. Regardless of how she and I feel about each other, I'm fairly proud that we've managed to put him first."

Relieved that Booth seemed to be agreeable to this line of questioning, Sweets continued, "When Rebecca got pregnant, you weren't…I mean, it wasn't…"

"It wasn't planned, no." Booth glared.

"You've mentioned before that you had wanted to marry her but she felt differently."

"Why does everyone like to remind me of that?" He grumbled.

"Did you want to marry her before she got pregnant?" He asked cautiously.

"Uh, I-I don't…It's hard for me…Why do you need to know?" Booth asked as he leaned toward Sweets.

"I'm just trying to piece things together...I would assume that since you don't know, you probably didn't. And it's your overwhelming sense of responsibility and obligation that keeps you from admitting that – that's admirable."

"Thanks Sweets, it's nice to hear that one of my impulses isn't wrong."

"Agent Booth, I would say that most of your impulses aren't wrong. You're a good man, a loyal man – someone that people look up to. It's my hope that after these sessions you believe that."

"Yeah Sweets, I'm awesome." Booth said sarcastically.

"Fine, don't listen to me."

Grinning, Booth shot back, "Oh, I don't."

"Moving on…I want to touch on your relationship with Dr. Brennan."

"Bones has nothing to do with my past. We've only worked together for the past four years." Booth said, trying to dismiss the notion that she affected him. An almost impossible task.

"But you're close. And I know I've talked about this often but you're an unlikely pair."

"Yes, fire and ice, oil and vinegar – we're opposites, we don't mix, and so on…"

"Totally…Why do you think you were able to bond with her?"

"We're partners, I didn't have much of a choice."

"Yes, you did. You made a conscience decision to pursue a working relationship with her and I'm curious as to why. You're connected to very few people, what made Dr. Brennan special?"

Booth shifted in his seat, "I really don't think Bones needs to be brought into this, it doesn't concern her."

"Whether you like it or not, she's in the mix. She's a part of your life. How did that happen?"

Booth sighed heavily, "When I first met her, I was struck by her lack of ambiguity. She said what she meant when she meant it and that was it and I admired that. Plus, she's great at what she does and when I agreed to work with her that's all I cared about."

"But now? There's more to care about?" Sweets asked innocently.

"Of course there's more, we're friends now. We've been through a lot." He said quietly.

"From my own observations, it seems that you were the one bridging most of the gaps. Why do you think that is?"

"One of us had to and she didn't know how." He half-smiled and scratched his brow, "I think in her mind, I needed her expertise more so I had to make the effort. And I was happy to do it."

Sweets took another glance at his notes, "When you started working with her, Dr. Brennan was pretty much an orphan, she hadn't yet found out what happened to her parents. Do you think you bonded over your unhappy childhoods?"

Booth crossed his arms tightly across his chest, "No…I didn't tell her about any of that and…" He trailed off, having more to say but fearing actually having to say it.

"And what?" Sweets urged.

"Honestly, early on there was a small part of me that thought…It sounds terrible now but…I felt like her not knowing about what happened to her parents was better than me having to remember mine. That she was…she was the orphan I wanted to be." Booth closed his eyes and rubbed them with his hand.

"And yet you've done nothing but encourage her to reconnect. You've gone out of your way to help her."

"It was the right thing to do. She deserved the chance and I don't know that she would have taken it on her own."

"Do you feel that in some way, helping her to fix her past helped you?" Sweets asked.

"Well, I got a more content partner."

"You know that's not what I meant. Did it give you hope that you would get past your past?" He leaned forward, hell bent on getting answer.

He sighed, "What do you want me to say? Huh?" Booth stood and started to pace behind the couch, "Do you want me to tell you that seeing her come to terms with a less-than-perfect childhood gave me hope? That watching her and the grace she possessed through all of it made me think that maybe I'm _not_ a lost cause?"

Sweets nodded, "Well, yeah…If that's the case then why haven't you shared more about yourself with her? Why haven't you told her about these sessions?"

Booth stopped in his paced tracks, "She doesn't need to be worried about whether or not our partnership is going to change."

"Don't you think that after everything, all that's happened, that she'd be more concerned about your well-being than your working status?"

"I don't want her to be concerned about anything."

"That's not a choice you get to make. The people who care about you do it willingly, not under duress."

Booth rested his arms on the back of the chair and stared down at the cushions, "Bones knows who I am. Where I stand…What I will and won't do…If she has questions, she can ask."

"Do you worry that she wouldn't understand?"

"No, of course not. People always think she's hard to know or that she's cold but she's not. She's a very understanding person."

"Do you think that if she knew everything about you, if she knew all of it, she wouldn't look at you the same way?"

Booth looked intently at the doctor, "There's nothing worse than seeing pity when someone looks at you."

"You're never going to be able to be yourself completely, with anyone until you risk that. You do incredibly dangerous and brave things to help people all the time, whether you know them or not. I want you to go home tonight and decide at what point you're worth that kind of risk?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you think about what we talked about yesterday?" Sweets asked a noticeably tired Booth.

"I did and against all of my better judgment, I can admit that you're right." He mumbled under his breath.

"Don't worry, I'll never tell anyone that you said I was right about something. What exactly was it that I was right about?"

"I'm not entirely open to people because of all the reasons you said. But I-I'm not sure of the right way to go about changing things and there is part of me that wonders if I even should."

"Why shouldn't you?"

Booth sighed. "Right now, I serve a purpose. The people in my life are safe because of the way I've chosen to be, guarded, careful. If I throw that out the window just so I can be…I mean, what's the goal of this? For me to be happy? What happens to the people who depend on me then?"

Sweets cleared his throat, "Can't you see how the duty and honor you wrap yourself up in keeps you from being truly satisfied with yourself?"

Booth shrugged.

Sweets could see that the weeks of therapy were starting to take their toll, the agent looked defeated. "How do you want to feel at the end of your life? Proud that you saved lives or happy that you lived one?"

Booth snickered, "Sweets, you should get that stitched onto a pillow – very insightful."

"Ok, admittedly it's a little corny but it is true. You are _not_ responsible for the people in your life. You can care for them and worry about them but you can not control them or their actions."

"I-I only do it because…" The truth was, Booth didn't know why he felt that he was taxed with keeping everyone in line.

"You do it because you think you don't have anything else to offer." Sweets explained quietly.

Booth nodded and closed his eyes tightly, "I mean…How else do I earn my way?"

Sweets folded his hands in his lap, they had gotten to the crux of Booth's problem – he felt unworthy of the life he had earned, "You do it by just being the person you are."

"And who is that?"

"You're a good father, you are a dedicated, caring partner and friend to Dr. Brennan, you're a highly skilled investigator and a respectable man overall. The person you are doesn't need to earn their way, you've forged your path on your own."

When Booth dragged himself back to his office after the session with Sweets, he found another message that Brennan had left with Charlie, it was the fourth one in three days. He looked at his watch and breathed a sigh of shame-filled relief, it was almost 8pm – he could drop the files she needed off at the lab without having to talk to anyone.

Upon arriving at the lab, he was surprised to find Brennan still in her office. His arrival startled her as well.

"Booth, what are you doing here so late?"

"I, uh…I was just dropping off the stuff you asked for. I was in a meeting when you called."

"You've been busy lately."

"Yeah." He nodded as he dropped the paperwork on her desk.

She fixed her eyes on him, trying to figure out why he'd been avoiding her, "Lots of cell- phone-free meetings."

"I'm sorry." He murmured as he took a seat on the couch in her office, it wasn't the ideal time to talk to her but it was better than never.

"It's ok – I've just been worried." Brennan was overwhelmed by the fact that he looked like she had every reason to be worried. She got up from her desk and took a seat in the chair across from him.

"I just…Is everything ok?"

She tilted her head, trying to get him to look at her, "I don't know, is it?"

"Bones, I'm tired. I don't know what you're fishing for."

"Ever since the Gravedigger took you, you've been distant and I know why."

"You do?" He was going to kill Sweets.

Brennan took a deep breath before explaining, "We risked your life…And I'm sorry that we wasted time…You wouldn't have made that choice."

Booth shook his head, that was weeks ago – why was it still on her mind? "I'm here, aren't I? You got to me in time and that's all that matters now."

"No! Why can't you just tell me that I made a mistake?" Brennan's voice crackled with emotion she hadn't known was there. It caught them both off guard.

He sighed and realized that it was time he practiced what he preached. It was time to tell her the truth, "That's not why…I've had to see Sweets for an evaluation."

"Why?" She could feel her heart pounding.

"Because I was kidnapped, Bones. It's just something that they make us do when we go through traumatic events. It's ok." He smiled, trying to convince her of something that he couldn't convince himself of.

"Why didn't you tell me? You told me before when you had to see Dr. Wyatt."

"I didn't want you to worry that we were going to be split up."

"That's not what I would have been worried about. How many times have you met with Sweets?"

Booth sighed, "Six…I have met with the little darling six times in the past two weeks."

Brennan tried to hide a smirk, "I can't imagine you spending that much time with him. How has it been?"

"It's been hard but not for the reasons you'd think." He looked up at Brennan. Her concern for him was evident and it urged him to continue, "I've learned a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like I need to accept that my past influences everything I do. That the choices I've made haven't always been what was best for me…" He trailed off.

Brennan was unsettled by how quiet and small he sounded, "Booth, you can't let Sweets make you question every decision you've ever made."

"I'm not letting Sweets make me question myself but…but as much as I hate to admit it, he's not wrong. I make decisions based on what I think is best for everyone else, even if it's not what I want - I just force myself to live with it…because as long as they're safe and taken care of I know that I'm not…"

"You're not your father." She finished his sentence for him when he couldn't.

He hung his head and nodded slightly, "As long as I can remember I-I've had to protect someone…You know, it started with being the partition between my father and the rest of the family." He inhaled sharply, "I let him wail on me instead of them, it was easier that way. Ever since I've found myself replaying that same role in everything I do and I've let people mistake that for bravery."

"Booth, I've witnessed your bravery first hand and I am not mistaken."

"There's nothing brave about it. I learned early in my life that it was easier to cope with the physical pain than it was to deal with the emotional pain, with the guilt of seeing others hurt. I don't put myself in harm's way because I'm brave – I do it because I'm avoiding the real and lasting pain that harm inflicted."

"I don't understand."

"Broken bones heal, bullet wounds close and when they do there are few continuous reminders that they were ever there but watching other people be abused and neglected never leaves you – you are reminded of it everyday…My father…He broke my arm when I was12 and even now when it rains, it hurts like hell but I don't think of it other than then. And yet, not a day goes by that I don't see my mother's face twisted in fear and pain and shame because of the things he did."

"But you've always been so adamant about me feeling things, opening my heart up."

He nodded, "I know and that makes me a hypocrite. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about your parents? Even after everything you witnessed between my family and me? Did you not trust me?" Brennan was fighting back tears, trying to remind herself that this wasn't about her.

"Of course I trust you! It's just that…I-I've never wanted to bother you with it, you have important things to do."

"Booth, it would never have bothered me…never…And _we_ have important work to do. The work we do together is important, neither of us could do it alone."

"Come on, Bones. I'm just a dumb jock who won the lottery - I'm lucky that you even wanted to work with me in the first place, I know that."

Brennan rose from her seat and took a few steps closer to her partner. "You're lucky?" She laughed gently as she sat down on the table directly in front of him, "If I remember correctly, I had to blackmail you. I wanted so desperately to be involved and you were the only one who would include me. Booth, _I'm_ the lucky one. Being by your side, as your partner, has been an honor." She could feel her eyes losing their battle with her tears, "You've given me so much. I want to return the favor but I don't know how…"

Booth wouldn't look at her - he couldn't look at her. There was something in her voice that pulled at his core. She had always been able to reach him but now he wanted to reach back. He felt completely and utterly exposed, there was little to no pretense left between them.

She swallowed hard, trying to determine what she should do. Then she remembered Angela's advice to her from years before, when her relationship with Booth was still new. _Knowing when a simple touch is enough. _Brennan's first instinct was to place her hand on his arm, to let him know that she was there but something told her that they had grown beyond a simple touch being enough. She leaned forward, allowing her knees to touch his and placed her hands on either side of his face, guiding his eyes to meet hers.

This was one of those moments that they had experienced as long as they had known each other, neither sure of what to say, both unable to look away. This was when Booth usually backed away, cracked a joke or made an excuse but tonight he was too tired to take control and there was a sense of peaceful freedom in it. He wasn't responsible for her, at least not in the way he had always thought he was.

She spread her hand out across his face, using her thumb to wipe away a stray tear. It was rare that she saw Booth cry and it scared her a little. Her simple gesture of removing one tear caused several more to take its place, causing her to lean toward him and whisper, "Booth, it's ok."

Having her hands cupping his face forced Booth to look Brennan in the eye, and when he did he saw…he saw the truth about them. Sweets had lectured him on the importance of having both his needs and wants met and at that moment Booth knew. She had always been what he needed, with her strength and the way she just understood him but over the years she had also become what he wanted. Desperately wanted. It was a want that he denied himself for reasons far too complicated to explain to anyone. But now she was here, less than an inch from him. He rested his hands on hers and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry, I never meant to keep things from you. I just…"

Brennan gently kissed his forehead, overcome with a need to convey to him that he didn't need to explain himself to her but she didn't know how to say it. Her lips lingered on his skin, not wanting to break contact. When she was finally able to pull away she felt him exhale deeply, he tilted his head up with hesitant eyes. She didn't want to give him a moment to consider if this was the responsible thing, the instincts that he had helped her hone told her it was the right thing.

He was stunned by her intimate gesture and there was a part of him that knew if he chased the feeling of her lips on his skin he would live to regret it but, he surmised, chasing that feeling was better than chasing his demons any day of the week. He grasped her face and pulled her to him, causing her to tremble at the touch. His pulse quickened when he saw her tongue dart out, wetting her lower lip in anticipation of what was to come.

He cupped her face, ignoring the battle of will that was going on in his mind and enveloped her lips with his own. The action wasn't chaste but it wasn't passionate, it wasn't wrong but it wasn't entirely right, either. When Brennan pulled back, desperate for air, she was struck by how much she could feel him needing her. She had been with men who wanted her but never one that needed her and it felt good. She decided at that moment she would give him everything he needed.

She rocked off of the glass table onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He gripped her waist as she settled with her knees on either side of him. Booth felt the need to say something, anything to alert them to the gravity of the moment but there were no words.

Before either of them knew it they were laying on the couch, lips still connected, still clutching each other as tightly as they could. Booth hovered above her, reveling in the pure joy her touch had brought him. He smirked when he realized that spending the past two weeks talking to Sweets was not the therapy he had needed.

"What's that look for?" Brennan asked when she noticed the light return to his eyes.

"It seems that I've spent the last two weeks on the wrong couch." He whispered in her ear before erasing her smile with his own lips.

That night, in the darkened Jeffersonian, on her office couch Brennan gave him all that she had - herself. She gave in and allowed Booth access to parts of her that she kept closed off to everyone else. He deserved it and more importantly she wanted him to have it. And then there came a point where she needed him to have it, to have her.

Booth woke a few hours later to find Brennan still sleeping, her bare body huddled up to his own under the cashmere blanket she kept on the couch. As he watched her sleep he thought of how gentle and caring she had been, she had been very…loving. Booth was uncomfortable equating that word with her but what had just transpired between them wasn't just sex but he wasn't certain that it was love either. It was freeing and completing.

Brennan rolled over in her sleep and immediately woke up - she wasn't in her bed. As she sat up everything came rushing back to her. Booth showing up at her office, confiding in her and then…She could still feel the burn of his five o'clock shadow on her. She looked around the dark room and realized he was gone. Brennan wrapped the blanket around her and sighed.

In her heart she knew that Seeley Booth was not a leaver but she also knew that wherever he was, he was flagellating himself for allowing things to go too far. And too far had been too good to deny. They had broken every rule they had ever laid down and that infamous line that they were so proud of was nowhere to be found.

Everyone they knew and everything they did from here on out would suffer the aftershocks of this night. Brennan groaned at the thought and threw herself back on to the couch.

Booth stood in a dimly lit hallway of the museum, carelessly dressed trying to pull himself together. He had never intended for things to get so out of control and he never anticipated that she would make that first move. Was this what she wanted? Had she been waiting for the right time? Maybe she had only been trying to comfort him, to ease his pain. In Brennan's own confusing way, she had only been trying to be a good partner.

He turned around and saw his reflection in a window, "You're an idiot." He told himself, "People don't do _that_ to be a good partner – especially her." He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control, when he opened them again it dawned on him that this was the risk he was meant to take. This was that one time when he was going to allow himself something on the simple principle that it was what he needed. She was what he needed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He didn't care how late it was, there was something that had to be said, "Hey Sweets…Yes, I know how late it is…I just wanted to let you know that I've decided I'm worth the risk…"


End file.
